Sofia Oliveri bids you farewell
by lauraheartstrings1
Summary: A purely indulgent self-insert. I presume to know myself fairly well, so this will pretty much just follow my stream of consciousness. Read it if you want, I can assure you, at the very least, that I won't be calling myself ebony darkness etc. and don't plan to give myself a harem of Hogwarts' OoC idiots. I do have delusions of grandeur though so you might want to be wary of that
1. Death

A purely indulgent self-insert. As I assume to know myself fairly well, this will pretty much just follow my stream of consciousness. Read it if you want, I can assure you, at the very least, that I won't be calling myself ebony darkness etc. and don't plan to give myself a harem of Hogwarts' finest OoC idiots. I do have delusions of grandeur though and will probably end up acting like something out of r/iamverysmart so be wary of that

—-

It's something she knows immediately, it almost feels as if she's always been aware of it, it's a piece of information that has suddenly become her sole defining trait, just as she knows her name, just as she can feel her her limbs, her body, she is now acutely aware of her death.

As soon as she learns it, the panic sets in. It's happened, the far away concept which only appeared on gloomy evenings or perhaps a particularly long road trip, one which had somehow allowed her brain to slip away from familiar daydreams and into the dreaded concept of the future, along with its inevitable end.

The far away end to her life. Previously perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, close, but generally, a distant end to the road. She can't help but feel cheated. What does it say of her, she thinks, that the first thing she associates with her death is one of those shitty mobile games, the kind where you end up forced to pay just to keep playing, except she doubts any money will allow her to "buy more hearts", there will be no weekly offer for 99 cents, popping up every time you log into the game and hounding you with its desire to bleed you dry.

How irrelevant everything seems now, how distant. She had just earlier today worried about the awkwardness of some interaction she'd had years ago, one forgotten, surely, by everyone but her. How silly her desperate attempts to please everyone, to be liked. But now, now nothing mattered, she was dead!

How did it happen? She's overwhelmed by the need to know, it's what caused the end of her life, her reality! Yet her mind is blank, how can she not even be aware of what so suddenly stole existence from her, she asks frantically, the beat of the heart that should have stopped by now beating out a rising crescendo, an overwhelming sound, muffling all other sensation through its constant battering.

Suddenly, a change is occurring. She'll get to live again! The knowledge is not spoken, like her death, she simply has it, is aware of it. She'll be able to do as she likes, she can't return to her own life, that's impossible, she died, but she can do anything else. Will this cycle continue, if she dies in the next world? Will she continue to have this freedom? She doesn't know, but she is far too overtaken by the wealth of possibility before her, she could...appear in the 1950s, work as an undercover operative in east Berlin! She could..fool an ancient civilisation into thinking her to be a god! Anything! She could give herself magic! Yes, yes she could! She could..go live in the world of Harry Potter! She could do anything, just show up in fourth year and...participate in the triwizard tournament! Why not? Apart from her own life, she could appear in anyone's, so why not the world of Harry Potter? She was sixteen so logically she'd appear in sixth year, ah but the plot would be much too far ahead by then, no fun. What if she appeared in 1981? When Harry Potter was born? Seeing the Berlin Wall would be fascinating, but she didn't particularly feel like taking care of Harry Potter as a child and she wouldn't get to experience all the intrigue within the school..She wanted to meet Tom Riddle as well, would he be different from Voldemort? She was curious. He was supposed to be bloody attractive as well, so that certainly would be nice to see. He would probably be insane though, wouldn't he? As great as he was in concept, in practice, psychopathy? Not all that great.

Fuck it, she would enter Hogwarts in Harry's fourth year, that's when things really became interesting anyway, but she'd need time to prepare, to create an identity. How would she go about that? The imperius? What methods did the ministry have of tracking use of the unforgivables? Muggle methods then, money was always effective, but how would she make it? She could sell transfigured valuables?...Theft! That was absolutely an option! Some valuable museum artefact could easily be stolen with magic. But she knew little of the black market, she'd need to build up a reputation, have people come to her...

Oh god what an idiot she's being, here she is talking about theft without even considering the most obvious option. Why steal valuables and sell the when she could steal money in the first place! A bank robbery, that would be amazing! Magic would take most of the thrill away, not much in terms of getaway drivers and shotguns, but a bank robbery none the less.

She'd need to acquire a wand as well, she could probably get away with some magic though, it's not as if she existed within the system, she rather doubted the trace would apply to her. Oh this would be great! The previously overwhelming anguish at the thought of her death was now little

else than a memory at the face of the once again bright future. Yes, she'd appear in London, 1993, give herself the time to establish herself, near the end of the year, December maybe? That would give her half a year to get into Hogwarts, she didn't want to age too much, she wanted to enter fourth year after all.

Ah how wonderful this would be! Her unawareness in regards to the reason of her death, her death in itself now no longer seemed so unfortunate, in this moment at least. She closed her eyes, though it made little difference in the encompassing darkness of the world she found herself in, and allowed herself to relax, to drift off.

Well fuck. She hadn't exactly taken the time to consider the fact it had been summer before she died. Her skirt and light coat did little to warm her. Her skirt ran to mid calf, and though the thin, airy material did little for warmth, at the very least she stood out less than in the shorts she had been wearing yesterday.

She'd originally planned on staying outside, practicing on some park bench where she could pass off the rise of a leaf or newspaper page as a flutter of the wind. She could still do that, but she'd need a warmer coat, Katheryn's thin jacket, which she had borrowed earlier, having neglected to bring one of her own, as nice as it looked, was not exactly suitable. She could transfigure it? Could she though? There seemed to be a specific spell for each transfiguration and she hardly knew the one to turn a jacket into a winter coat, as specific as rat to goblet was, it wasn't much use here.

Perhaps it was the biting cold or her rather disparate mood, but on December 1st, 1993, if the newspaper she had glanced at later in the day was to be believed, Sofia Oliveri performed her first bit of magic. It was not ideal, she was still freezing from the waist down, flats not generally being considered warm winter footwear, but at the very least she no longer felt as if she were dying from hypothermia.

In some dead end alley which stank of piss, somewhere in London, fuck if she knew where, Sofia Oliveri revelled in a sense of uncontainable joy. Her freezing feet, the nudging anxiety forcefully repressed at the back of her mind, vanished, because she had just used magic. Magic for fucks sake! Her friends, her family, the aftermath of her death, all were momentarily forgotten because Sofia Oliveri had just defied the primordial laws which defined the universe. She'd created something out of nothing, she felt like a god for this one fleeting moment. Struggling to contain her excitement, in some dark alley where people probably primarily spent their time getting mugged, she felt on top of the world.


	2. Hospice

Sofia pursued magic with the dedication of a holy man. Treating it very much so as her religion. After her first piece of magic she had walked out of the alley and pursued her plan of finding a park. She had no idea where she was, she was in London, that much was obvious, the architecture and atmosphere clearly indicated that.

In hindsight, she wished she'd payed more attention to her surroundings whenever she came to visit her uncle. But the all that was something to berate herself on for another day, as she eventually found a small park, resembling more of a patch of lawn surrounded by a fence, but still, a place where she was unlikely to draw much attention.

It was hard, much harder than her efforts with the coat, without the weight of a desperate desire for survival, magic was not so forthcoming. Each time she thought she'd managed a bit of movement the breeze made itself apparent and any accomplishment was once again cast in doubt. She was hungry and still very cold and her magic was hardly working and she wanted to scream in frustration. She felt stressed each time someone walked by her, would they try to ask her questions? Would they notice she was wearing summer clothes? The anxiety was maddening. Eventually, after what felt like hours of trial, her stomach growling angrily, Sofia felt certain of her ability. From the hems of her skirt and some leaves lying on the ground she built her way up to the pebbles making up the footpath. She had done it and felt so incredibly relieved. But the joy was short lived, the sky was beginning to darken, early as it did in winter, but it served to remind her she'd need to quickly find a place to stay.

The Magical world seemed easiest, she had no identity documents on her so she doubted anyone would allow her into a normal hotel. Harry had stayed at the leaky cauldron in after he ran from the Dursleys, was that solely allowed due to his celebrity status? She'd have to take the chance. She had no money though! How would she acquire it? In the long term of course, bank robbery seemed viable, but that would need to wait till she acquired a wand and learnt more advanced spells. She could steal a wallet then? But she couldn't afford to be caught, she would be unable to explain, it wasn't a possibility, she'd need to use magic. She couldn't steal from women either, handbags would be much harder to steal from..Students perhaps? Backpacks would be easier, men as well, someone with a wallet in their back pocket would be easy to steal from. Well easy, she had no idea how to go about this. The tube would be an option, but she had no clue where the nearest station was and again, she couldn't afford to get caught, getting in without a fare would risk exposure.

A busy street then, she'd need to keep walking, it was close to Christmas, right? It was December first, she was bound to find some evening shoppers. She was also greatly thankful that she seemed to be somewhere in the centre of town, if she was to judge by the amount of camera holding tourist groups. It would make her life much easier. She merged with the crowd, she was starting to recognise where she was, she'd been here before, not that she could tell you where it was, the rows of houses and buildings looked identical to her across the entire city. The zebra crossings with those poles with yellow lights of which she never understood the purpose, the advertisements for various west end shows, the crowds of people all mixed together in her mind. What she was saying, really, is that she sucked at directions. Give her a map and she could guide you anywhere, but even in Brussels, having lived there what? 12 years? She wouldn't be able to give a passerby directions.

Oh! That was a double decker bus! A proper one! Not the horrible modern ones, the kind you get onto from the back! This was so cool! She really was in the past, she hadn't only given herself magic, she was actually in 1993. She'd seen that newspaper but this made it apparent. Her parents would still be in university wouldn't they? Or had they already finished? She couldn't remember. Wait no her her mother wouldn't be in the UK yet. She'd missed the fall of the Berlin Wall, that would have been fascinating to see. Ah man this would be interesting. She could meet dead people! Who did she want to meet though? Was there anyone in particular who died before she was around? Wait a second would she have to try and stop 9/11. Oh Jesus this was going to be more complicated than she expected.

The idea of messing with historical events, was for now, put aside, as she'd just seen some university age guy put his wallet away after walking out of a deli. Oh Jesus.. she hadn't had the time to pay attention to the fashion of the people around her. At least she'd decided to pass on the eighties, she didn't know if she could bear that, but then dreadlocks (on a white guy! why..?) and pants that looked like they were about ten sizes too big we're pretty off putting as well. This guy really embodied the worst of the nineties didn't he?

She followed behind him, merging into the crowds and trying to open his backpack using magic. She accidentally pulled it back. She panicked and froze. The moment passed. The crowds walked on, and the twenty yeah old refocused on the wrap he'd brought out of the deli. She tried again. Careful to avoid being jostled by the crowds and careful to not commit the same mistake, Sofia succeeded in opening the backpack pocket from a distance, now all she needed to do was make it fall out. This was going to be so easy. She was going to do it! It would work!

For once, she didn't damn herself with those words, the wallet made its way to her with no one noticing. To quote Tobias Tischbier "the true luxury of the West is that no one pays attention to you". Damn that had been a good show. She'd have to wait 20 years to watch it again, Jesus what a pity. German tv shows aside, Sofia was quick to hide the wallet in her pocket and speed up her walking pace.

Sure of her distance to the man she stole from, she took the wallet out again. Twenty pounds. What was she expecting? This was what looked like a college student, not exactly the richest bunch. She left the wallet on the street, taking the couple coins present as well, raising her total to a grand...23.50. The exchange rate was five pounds to a galleon..that gave her..four galleons and a bit. Great, so much for that. A wand had cost Harry, seven galleons? Well at the very least things seemed pretty cheap in the wizarding world. Something as essential as a wand costing only 35 quid. How much would a stay at the leaky cauldron cost? Around the same price right? She'd need to pay for a cab fare as well, she had no idea how to get to Charring Cross road. After that she could book a stay at the leaky cauldron, given the chance they didn't require papers and deal with the rest of things tomorrow. She used the three pounds in coins she had to buy some food and returned to the hunt.

It had only begun to get dark when she'd started, meaning it was probably only around five, but the day wore on, people were walking into more and more restaurants, it must have been seven or eight. She was exhausted, ready to collapse, but she had finally accumulated a sizeable amount of money, 130 pounds. She'd kept walking, moving from place to place, but she had the feeling one of the wallets she'd abandoned had been found. Perhaps it was paranoia, but she couldn't help feel the stares of some of the police officers in her. There seemed to be more and more of them. She felt like they were getting closer, she'd have to wrap it up for now. She couldn't afford to get caught. She couldn't explain her situation to them. No no she had to get away.

"Sorry miss.."

She freezes, someone is lightly tapping her shoulder, he'd shoulders tense, pulling back...It's only a tourist. Oh thank god. He's asking for directions. She assured him that she is a tourist as much as he was. He's reluctant to believe her but leaves to ask someone else. God she's really got to get out of here.

She calls over a cab. It's practically extortion with the amount of money she has but she just can't find it in her to care. She's left with 105 pounds, more or less. She tells the cabbie to just drop her off halfway through the street. Was a number ever given for the leaky cauldron? She can't remember. It's supposed to be between a bookstore and something else. With no better solution in mind she walks along the street, it's emptier than where she was before. She feels anxious walking down the street alone, the few passing people don't seem to pay her any attention, but there is always that doubt in her mind. She got away from the cops for theft, but what if someone finds her suspicious? It must be eight thirty at least by now, probably nine or later.

There it is. She's never felt so relieved. She stops to take a deep breath. She doesn't want to stand out too much, should she just book a room? Or should she exchange the money, does the leaky cauldron accept pounds? She's better off exchanging it. She can have someone open the passage for her, maybe claim she's a foreigner? She didn't really want to give up the fact she didn't have a wand yet. Yes she'd do that, maybe throw in a bit of that Italian accent, she didn't have one, but she'd be sticking to the truth. Way easier than the alternative polish accent.

She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and pushes the door open. The bar? Is that what it could be qualified as? Pub, that's a better word. The pub smells musty and of wood. The interior has a hazy quality to it, a sleepy one, like an airport at midnight or a hotel corridor, something about it that feels not quite real. There are a few wizards and witches sat throughout the room, and how exciting it is to be able to qualify them as that! There's a faint bell sound when she enters, the barkeep and a few patrons look up. Assessing her, they return to their previous activities. She walks up to the barkeep, quietly, feeling as if by being loud she would destroy the sanctity of the room. She's hit by her exhaustion, she just wants to book a room, she can enter the alley tomorrow. The day weighs heavily on her. She's so tired.

"Sorry, I just arrived in London recently, well today, I wanted to visit the alley, but I got held up in muggle London. It's really fascinating, muggles really are incredible! London is very different from Rome. I wanted to book a room for the night would that be possible? I only have muggle money, would that be accepted? I exchanged it to buy things in London and haven't had the time to pick up some galleons" She tries not to lay the accent on too much, if she's to be staying here for a while she doesn't want to be that obvious and then doing a ridiculous accent all the time gets annoying.

The barkeep exclaims something about visiting London and the British magical community, talking about what to see. As fascinating as it is, Sofia already feels herself drifting away. He informs her that she can just exchange money the next morning and gives her the key to a room above.

The sight of a bed is an amazing relief. She takes off her coat, drapes it over a chair and falls face first into the bed. It's small and lumpy and smells musty like the rest of the building, but to her it's paradise. She kicks of her shoes, takes a moment to unclasp her bra and is already getting into bed.

The marvels of the magical world can wait until tomorrow. Right now, basic needs take over, as Sofia Oliveri comfortably succumbs to oblivion.


	3. Imperium

She wakes up with the sun shining across her face. She'd never gotten around to closing the curtains the night before, so she's hit with the cold winter sunlight once she opens her eyes. She has no watch and thus no way of telling the time, but the sun is already out in full force, so she assumes she's overslept past any reasonable hour. She takes a moment to lounge in bed. What the hell is she doing? In this moment of peace, having access to room and board for and instant, Sofia Oliveri takes a moment to consider her actions. She's in the magical world now, she can tell someone without them just dismissing her as insane, but should she? She doesn't want to admit it, not even to herself, but the idea of creating an identity for her, of living this fallacy seems invigorating. Something outside the incredibly ordinary life she'd lived previously. And then, she doesn't want to be dependent on someone, doesn't want them to know. Her death is an intimate fact, not something she wishes to be announced to the world. She could perhaps supply a half truth, time travel.

Time travel would explain her knowledge of how the plot, the future, would unfold, it would explain her sudden appearance in this world. She could tell Dumbledore this half though, it would be the simplest way to get into the school, he'd be eager for the knowledge she had and she'd get into the school. It was a win-win situation. But again, did she want someone to know that much about her? He would make her life in the school easier, but was it worth it? It made the most sense for her to support him, she hardly wanted the dark lord to win, but she hardly wanted someone else to hold power over her either. She didn't know if she could resist the imperius or any other form of curse, what if Dumbledore got desperate? She couldn't risk it, that's what she told herself, it wouldn't do to admit, even to herself, that buried desire for excitement at the expense of others. Perhaps her mother was onto something when she, in a roundabout way, called her father a compulsive liar, but then divorce did that. She'd get in on her own merit and only if all else failed would Sofia reveal herself to Dumbledore.

She still needed a foothold in the world, her parents were alive and she doubted she'd be able to fake the grief caused by their deaths. She could use actors, call them in for the few occasions in which someone would need to meet her family. She couldn't use muggles and the wizarding world didn't have an acting industry. She'd need someone trustworthy then, but who?

If she wanted to keep her identity as close to reality as possible she'd need to be half Italian half polish, on the positive side, this would throw her family much less into question, as she doubted even pureblood fanatics like the Malfoys bothered learning the names of all the pureblood families on the continent, and she'd have to be pureblood. She was most probably going to be a slytherin and there was no way she was going to present herself as muggleborn. Hell that would be impossible, she'd be joining as a fourth year and muggles could hardly homeschool a witch. As a minimum she needed to be a half-blood. Her father could be a squib! That would make things even better, no one bothered learning the names of squibs and if her mother was pureblood she'd then still fit in as a pureblood.

That sorted her lineage but she would still need to find someone capable of acting as her family. Wait a second, ah shit, Blaise Zabini was Italian. That could seriously fuck with things. Or not..she needed someone to trust after all. If that family happened to be the only liability to her plan then all the better. Yes she'd come into contact with the Zabini family. The mother's husbands all died in suspicious circumstances but if she had something to offer her Sofia doubted she'd be in any danger. Even then, what's the worst death could do? Outside of the uncertainty of a second..reincarnation, there was little to fear, she was dead already, really.

She knew what value companies would rise to, she could provide great profit to the family and that was certainly something which would interest them if the mother's history was to be considered. She could tell them of the future, Blaise became a death eater didn't he? She could warn them away from that, it would save the family from the consequences of Voldemort's loss, yes this would be perfect. Ah shit no no no, he didn't do that, that was the movies wasn't it? He remained neutral. Well this worked better for her she supposed. No ties to Voldemort, her only liability, seeking money and probably well connected. Zabini's mother probably had the power to help her create papers as well, right?

They'd give her more freedom than Dumbledore, it would all work out in the end. Ah but was she getting in over her head? Could she trust them? She needed to trust someone. He was supposed to be Italian right? That was never completely certain though was it? Ah god. What was she supposed to do then, just threaten him? She couldn't kill him, so how was she meant to control the liability he was. She still needed a paper trail as well. No! Whatever! She'd do it! Fuck it! First idea best idea. Now, she had to go to Gringotts, get a wand, pay for her stay and get the fuck back to muggle London and get some more money.

She did exactly that, after having breakfast at the leaky cauldron. She had arrived at the very end of breakfast hours and the barkeep, who had turned out to indeed be the known Tom from the books, had offered her some before she rushed out the door and missed it entirely. He'd also been gracious enough to open the entrance for her, she'd explained she didn't know how to open it, it was easier than explaining why she didn't have a wand. Seeing Goblins for the first time had been great, fucking Goblins! She'd really have to take care of magical creatures. Well, saying that was a bit offensive to the goblins but the point still stood. The bank really was beautiful, she wished she had the time to draw it, but even if she did she doubted the Goblins would have any interest in allowing her to just sit in the middle of the floor and make drawings.

That's not to say Diagon Alley wasn't incredible in its own right, it hadn't snowed, something for which her legs were certainly grateful, but she thought it must certainly be beautiful when it did do so. She tried not to look around too much, she had never liked drawing attention to herself, in this life or the previous and her lack of robes was out of place enough. She would return though, with money, she'd have to buy books first, those would be most important, she had to have the foundation necessary to enter fourth year, but she'd get herself some robes next. Ah but didn't those take a while to make? Maybe she'd get them first, she'd be warmer for it. Well, it didn't matter. She needed to look for the infamous Ollivander's.

She'd found it. She stood, still freezing, 21 galleons and some sickles to her name, before the storefront. The faded golden lettering declaring its name, but then that wasn't really needed after all, it was the only wand shop in Britain, or at least the best, were there others? It would make sense for that to be the case..regardless, she was going to get a wand.

She pushed the old wooden door to the shop open and felt as if she were entering a church. Unlike the quiet aura of the Leaky Cauldron yesterday night, the atmosphere was not one of quaint sleepiness in a mystical place, instead it felt more akin to that of a long abandoned place of worship. Something which despite its state, be it of messiness or disrepair, continued to instil a sense of a greater power in whoever was to come across it. Off guard for a moment, absorbing the empty silence of the space, Sofia Oliveri was surprised by a voice coming from the side

"What can I do for you, miss?"

It was Ollivander, well, who else would it be?

"I need a wand" Sofia didn't even have the time to berate herself, of course she needed a wand, this was the only thing the shop sold. Idiot.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, I haven't sold one to you. Miss..?" Ollivander looked at her, he was old, at least eighty she thought, he had a face that could only belong within this shop she decided. Outside of it, the man would look entirely out of place, he was just as much a part of the shop as the insurmountable stacks of wand boxes and the particles of dust floating in the air, visible only in the beams of light that made it past the half obscured windows. She felt as if he'd pick up on any fallacy, but then, what else was she to do?

"Oliveri, my previous wand was a family wand" She was being intentionally vague, she knew only of Gregorovitch as a wand maker and Ollivander would be the type to ask questions about wands of foreign make.

"Might I ask what happened to it?" Ollivander asked, examining her from behind the counter.

"It broke." Sofia had no desire to expand on this and hoped to a deity she didn't believe in that the man would move on.

"I'm always saddened by the destruction of a wand, but then I would never have gotten the chance to match you with one of my fine wands miss Oliveri, had that not been the case. Wand arm?" The process continued much as it had in the books, she felt ridiculous with the tape measure flying around her, but what was she to do?

She was offered a multitude of wands, elm, hazel, walnut, vine, this was around the time unicorn hair was taken out of the equation, she'd managed to somehow create a gust of wind which sent just about everything and anything in the shop flying. Redwood came next, then aspen and to her surprise, yew. Though in the end the sinister wood of Voldemort's wand knocked her against the door as the result of a small blast.

The final wand that would be presented to her was pine. Having once perused the Pottermore article about wand woods, this has been the wood that has piqued her interest, she'd assigned it to herself, despite the arrogance of declaring one of the wands defined by the intelligence of its owner hers. At the time she had had little mystery to her, this was perhaps the most obvious discrepancy between her and the wand's described characteristics, but clearly times had changed, as the wand glowed brightly in her hand.

"A great wand miss Oliveri, pine, dragon heartstring, unyielding and 14 inches long. It's said those who own a pine wand are destined to lead long lives, I hope you find yours fruitful with my wand by your side. That'll be seven galleons" She wanted to laugh. Destined to be long lived was she? She counted out seven galleons and passed them to Ollivander, taking the wand, leaving the box behind and exiting the shop at a brisk pace, feeling the man's bright eyes following her out.

The cold air hit her again, she'd need to get to work on transfiguring her clothes into something better, now that she had a wand, and fuck wasn't that something! She had 14 galleons left and she'd need eight of them to pay for her room. She'd need to go out to London again, she'd need to exchange more money, book a room again, buy robes, buy books...and she'd need to start writing that letter to the Zabini's, the faster she had somewhere to put her feet down the better. She felt herself on the end he of a precipice, the only thing keeping her going was a sheer buildup of adrenaline, she was going to crash soon, but for now, the wand awkwardly shoved inside her coat kept her going.

—

Honestly sometimes I wish I'd said this was an oc story, then people would just be like "wow, what a multifaceted, realistic character!" Instead everyone knows it's literally just me, not that the way I'm writing is making me seem like a particularly interesting person. Well, regardless, I feel like I'm not making myself fuck up enough in this story, like I totally would have just fucking starved to death or be in police custody by now. Also I will be making Blaise Italian for the purposes of the story, it's never been 100% confirmed I don't think, but I'm just gonna go with it.


	4. Turmoil

Was she actually going to rob a bank? Sofia pondered, once again walking the streets of London. It seemed so ridiculous now, as a concept. Wouldn't there be repercussions? For employees, for customers? She wanted the money. She wasn't so arrogant as to say she needed it, but it would be a great help. Even if she was successful in contacting the Zabini's it would be useful, both to entice them and prove her independence.

Everything would be much easier if she just contacted someone like the Weasley's, but she didn't want to. Where was the thrill? She was free, she could do anything, she could fuck off to the amazon rainforest and use magic to survive, so why chain herself down with a family which wasn't hers? The Zabini's seemed a family which would allow her to maintain independence. Wasn't this what she so desperately wanted? Freedom, the chance to prove herself self-reliant?

No it wasn't. Who the fuck was she kidding. She wanted to be independent while still having her parents provide everything for her. She dreamt of her life as an adult with seemingly unending money yet no serious job. She'd wanted to be an artist, how the fuck was that going to provide for her. God even before she'd managed to get herself killed she'd had no fucking clue what she was doing. Christ! Her parents cooked for her, the maid cleaned after her, she didn't even do her own goddamn laundry and she wanted to prove her independence?

What the fuck was she going to do? She wanted to rob a bank? This wasn't fucking Bonnie and Clyde, modern security existed, how the fuck was she going to do this? She allowed herself to wallow in misery, the cold drab weather for once aligning itself with her, but she supposed England provided fairly well for miserable people.

Perhaps she was thinking too muggle, she had magic and wasn't taking advantages of its power. What was a safe if she could just use a bombarda? Hell, even an alohomora might work to unlock it. What use were security cameras if she could use a disillusionment charm? Legilimency too, would be useful. In the case of unforeseen security measures. It would be the easiest way to obtain the layout of a bank. She could also use it to track down someone capable of forging muggle papers for her, or she could use it to learn how to make them for herself. Magic really was the solution to all her problems! She could easily commit the robbery, and, she could even find someone capable of making fake papers for her! In the muggle world at least.

If she had muggle paperwork then surely registering herself with the ministry wouldn't be that hard, at least she wouldn't seem to have appeared completely out of nowhere. If she got the Zabini's to help her she could present herself to the Italian ministry, give them the forged muggle papers, have them turn those into valid magical documents, and then apply to the British ministry for the same. This would totally work! She doubted the ministry would check for muggle methods of forgery, it's not as if a muggle could make their way to the magical world anyway and a wizard would have no reason to do so.

Alright! All she needed to do was learn the incredibly obscure art of legilimency while still taking the time to earn money for herself, to figure out her direction in life..to learn all other forms of magic..haha! This was going to be easy...

It took her some three weeks to manage anything. Her first success had been with a smartly dressed woman in her forties, a muggle, it still felt unfair referring to people that way, it was what she had been until a month ago. She'd only really succeeded in a short glance, a flash of frustration which belonged to someone else before she was staring at the briskly disappearing figure, but it was progress enough for her. Some twenty consecutive days of practice and she finally witnessed the fruit of her labour.

Sofia had been getting antsy staying at the leaky cauldron. She didn't like the idea of her presence being so obvious, so constant. She'd told Tom it was part of a study trip, but already she thought that a risk. She'd almost told him it was a graduation trip, but she'd stopped herself on time, so instead her tutor had sent her to travel for two months so as to 'learn independence through the exploration of foreign cultures'.

She'd made other progresses with magic. If she was going to enter Hogwarts she needed to be up to date on the material. She now had a handle on a good ten spells. The classic wingardium leviosa was first, not really out of necessity and instead more for the sake of nostalgia, she learnt stupefy and protego next, and didn't that say something about paranoia? Fourth was disillusionment, for its importance in procuring money, along with alohomora for the same reason, bomabarda was not something she felt safe to practice yet. If legilimency was to be considered a spell, which she supposed it was, that was another. After which came incendio, in the case she was actually going to go live out somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The rest were charms related generally to clothing.

These were perhaps her favourites. She'd proudly taken window shopping to an entirely new level, walking past window displays and then working to recreate the clothing in the evenings. She'd bought some raw fabric to work from, and a pair of knee high boots in a soft brown leather, which she didn't bother changing, but other than that, she'd spent nothing on the clothes she wore. She was particularly fond of her coat, which was now made out of a heavy cottony material she didn't really know how to describe, the kind most often used for more wintery formal coats. It was just like the one her mother had at home, or really the one she'd totally claimed as her own. What could she say? Long billowy coats just had something to them, well, when your friends didn't tell you your coat looked like a bathrobe. Absolutely unwarranted criticisms aside, her bathrobe-coat was absolutely amazing and every time Sofia burrowed herself in it she tried deeply not to think of her mother. It was an exercise in futility.

She'd taken to writing again, on paper, instead of the notepad app on her phone, it was much more romantic, but it was more of an effort, than typing that is. However, in the end, the leather bound journal she'd picked up proved itself a great comfort. She wrote using a fountain pen, rejecting the quill, which despite its great visual flare, something which Sofia usually greatly approved of, proved much too tiresome to use. She allotted herself an hour each day to the practice, right before bathing each evening, the warm water permitting her to distance herself from whatever emotion had been brought forth that evening. Her evenings were thus spent writing and then soaking in a bath while staring listlessly at the cracks on the ceiling.

So, she moved forward, compartmentalising her feelings neatly into an hour each day, in a way that she assumed most probably wasn't healthy, but then, if there was anything she was good at it was emotional suppression, and devoting all remaining time to the fierce pursuit of legilimency and all other magic.

She'd had the occasional doubts about entering fourth year, but meeting Moody, or Barty Crouch Jr, was something she looked forward to. He was played by David Tennant, and while Doctor Who no longer held her interest as avidly as it had that of her regretful thirteen year old self, she did think it would be interesting. Or would he be closer to the book counterpart? Perhaps a mix of both. Would Neville be blond? Regardless, she also wanted to see Harry in his period of turmoil. She thought she'd quite like to warm herself into his company while he was rejected by Ron after his selection as champion.

Either way, she'd convinced herself to continue on with her plan. She'd improve at legilimency, so as to learn information vital to her procuring of a fortune and her establishment as a citizen of the magical world, and she'd move out of the leaky cauldron.

She was now also working on learning the notice me not and other muggle repelling charms, while she didn't yet have the paperwork to purchase a house, she thought she could find herself a nice meadow and transfigure some measure of one.

She'd stocked up on a sizeable amount of galleons, using them mainly to pay for her room at the leaky cauldron and for books and study materials. So she bought herself an expandable bag, the likes of which Hermione had made herself. She'd also considered buying one of those fancy tents when she first decided to move on from the leaky cauldron, but the price was rather terrifying, just like that of the brooms offered to her when she first set out to buy one. Since she couldn't apparate yet, she'd figured a broom was a reasonable alternative. She bought second hand in the end, a cleansweep, it was old, uncomfortable and decorated with crude designs of stripes, lighting bolts and any other measure of decoration which a preteen boy might think up, but it looked sturdy and most importantly, it was cheap.

All this was the reason for which she was currently standing in the leaky cauldron's fireplace. She counted down, three, two, one...

"The three broomsticks"

She threw the powder down and the green flames enveloped her. She stumbled out in a foreign room. The patrons of the establishment, which she very much hoped was the three broomsticks, payed her little attention as she stepped out into the rays of the slowly rising December sun. It was almost Christmas wasn't it? What day was it? The twenty second?Third? This was going to be her first Christmas alone. And wasn't that a miserable thought? Her family didn't exist in this world, she knew that much. She truly has no one. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and headed out.

Taking in the village of hogsmeade, her boots crunching through the soft layer of fresh snow that must have fallen overnight, Sofia headed towards its outskirts. She was headed up, into the mountains, they seemed the best place to set up her base. Close enough to floo access but far enough from civilisation to avoid rousing suspicion. So, on December twenty third, Sofia Oliveri stepped into The snow of the Scottish highlands for the first time, in search of a place in which to build herself a home.


End file.
